


On A Slow Night

by mixterhodgins



Series: Sexual Healing [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 18:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6577090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixterhodgins/pseuds/mixterhodgins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hadn’t put too much thought into why Root hadn’t been interested when she suggested getting out the strap-on, and pretty soon after declared herself worn out for the night. But Root had already thanked her for not pressing the matter three times. Something about her behaviour told Shaw that Root might not be so used to her partners respecting her consent. Maybe it was the softness of Root’s hand on her hip, or the mellow combination of moonlight and light pollution warming the room, or the memory of the happy moan Root had let out when she brought Shaw to her third orgasm of the night, but something gave Shaw the idea that she could ask the woman in front of her, stripped of her defenses, for the truth. And that she might get an actual answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On A Slow Night

**Author's Note:**

> just if youre wondering- no explicit details of roots trauma! also this is the first in a three part series about trauma and love  
> edit: oh shit i forgot to say! check me out at http://lionelfusco.tumblr.com and please feel free to send me requests or anything!! i love to make new friends  
> also please leave a comment with your thoughts! its really encouraging for me to want to keep writing in this fandom when you do  
> edit 2: after a slightly rude comment that bummed me out i will clarify that i hc root with eczema and i dont know why thats a problem or a big deal. real people have imperfect skin. i like to write characters like real people

Sameen watched as her lover shifted on the bed next to her, the purplish tracks of her veins clearly visible through the scarred, freckled, eczema-ridden skin of her naked body. She shifted, and Shaw watched as Root’s long, brown hair fell to cover the soft canvas of her back. Shaw raised a cautious hand, trying to build up the courage to push the hair away, so she could return to her silent study of Root’s circulatory system. Her partner’s small, gentle yawn interrupted her before she could move. The sound was sweet enough to make Shaw pull away in her own vulnerable affection. She put her hand on the pillow between them, instead, and let another moment of silence pass.

“You’re actually really pretty, Root,” Shaw said. Her voice came out rougher than she meant it to, but Root didn’t seem bothered when she rolled over, cheeks flushed and eyelids droopy. To Shaw, she looked disarmingly defenseless for the woman she knew Root was. The delicate, intimate smile that she shone at Shaw was enough to give Sameen the courage to reach out again, to touch her warm face, and to push a strand of dark hair away from her lover’s cheek. 

“Careful, Sam,” Root mumbled, hooking her pinky around Shaw’s index finger and bringing it to her mouth. The kiss that she pressed to her hand was sweet, and a little wet, like recent memories that the action brought to Sameen’s mind. “That almost sounds like a compliment,” Root continued as she pressed a kiss into the pads of Shaw’s index and middle finger, and let go. Root moved her hand to the widest part of Shaw’s hip, and for once, her hyperactive lover stilled, bliss radiating from every boney joint of her lanky body. “Thank you, Sameen. For earlier.” 

Shaw shifted position, shaking out the arm she had been crushing under her own torso. Pins and needles flooded through her shoulder, colliding with the warm tingles that were dancing in her chest. She stared at Root, who was obviously and openly staring at her breasts. “Common courtesy,” Shaw said, eyes still fixed on her girlfriend’s face. Shaw did her best to flex her biceps without appearing to, and a small, giddy smile flickered on Root’s face. A success. “Really, though. It’s no big deal,” Shaw continued. ”Any time you want to stop, we stop,” a siren blared outside, and the reflexive twitching in Root’s neck matched Shaw’s own, something that Shaw noted with affection. “It’s no big deal. Plus, I had a lot of fun with what we did.” 

She hadn’t put too much thought into why Root hadn’t been interested when she suggested getting out the strap-on, and pretty soon after declared herself worn out for the night. But Root had already thanked her for not pressing the matter three times. Something about her behaviour told Shaw that Root might not be so used to her partners respecting her consent. Maybe it was the softness of Root’s hand on her hip, or the mellow combination of moonlight and light pollution warming the room, or the memory of the happy moan Root had let out when she brought Shaw to her third orgasm of the night, but something gave Shaw the idea that she could ask the woman in front of her, stripped of her defenses, for the truth. And that she might get an actual answer. “Root,” she began carefully, “did someone...?” Her girlfriend’s eyes flitted away from hers. In shame or anxiety, Shaw, to her own internal frustration, couldn’t tell. Shaw got distracted by those eyes, and how different they had become in the time she’d known Root. Suddenly, she couldn’t bring herself to say the word. Root took a deep breath before she picked up where Shaw left off.

“I had a girlfriend, for a while,” Root began, moving her hand back to Shaw’s, on the pillow. Shaw watched the hesitation process through Root’s system as her hand hovered, and waited for the contact to come. Three seconds later, Root’s pinky finger was wrapped around Shaw’s. She squeezed back. “I don’t think she cared about what I wanted. I wasn’t much more than… an object, to her.” Root’s voice was flatter than usual, dulled by the pain of her memories. Shaw didn’t speak. She knew the look on Root’s face when she was searching for her next sentence. Hair had fallen into Root’s eyes again, and this time, pushing it away was nearly reflexive for Shaw. She was internally surprised at her own ability to adapt. She enjoyed the intimacy that she and Root had developed together. Some of it even felt natural. In times like this, she appreciated it more than anything.

Root opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again. “Sometimes, I can give, but I can’t take. Sometimes I can’t do anything at all. I guess that’s the simplest way to put it. I’m sorry.” Root’s face crumbled in shame, and very suddenly Shaw was ferociously, viciously angry at the woman who had put such an ugly, painful expression on Root’s face. She squeezed her finger tighter. 

“No, don’t apologize for that,” she said firmly, trying to catch Root’s flitting glance. She seemed panicked, or uncomfortable, and still refused to make eye contact. “Never, ever apologize for that.” A lock of hair fell into her eyes, and Shaw’s hand raised instinctively to brush it aside. She caught her repetitive impulse, and instead forced it to rest gently on Root’s cheek instead, urging her big brown eyes to lock with Shaw’s. “It wasn’t your fault, Root. And anything you need isn’t your fault. You wanna stop? We stop.” Root’s eyes began to slip off hers, again. Both of Shaw’s hands jostled without her permission, and her lover’s deep, passionate eyes snapped back onto hers. Shaw saw the pain in them. She understood it, in a way. At least, she understood that she wanted to help. “I mean it, Root. Anything you need, that’s okay. Alright?” In moments like these, to say that Root had doe eyes would be a bit of an understatement. Her eyelashes fluttered like baby birds tipping out of the edge of the nest for the first time, wings wet with morning dew. 

“Alright, Sameen,” she said, the tears in her eyes turning sweet and wholesome underneath Shaw’s palm. She watched Root’s eyes for a split second, the water running from them, and then moved to the small curve of her smile, and knew what she wanted to do. Shaw closed her eyes, and placed her lips on Root’s cheek. As sweet as the tears of gratitude looked, they still tasted as salty as any. 

“I love you,” Root whispered, her confessions of love always sounding more like prayers. Maybe it was the familiar rough patch of eczema under Sameen’s lips, or the pinky finger wrapped tightly around her own, or the way, from this angle, she could see right into Root’s tear duct, but this time, Shaw considered it.

“Yeah,” she said, and she noticed the breath of her words blowing little waves in Root’s eyebrow, and the way Root’s cold feet nudged in between her own. “I love you too, Root.” 


End file.
